Contested Territory
by Neleothesze
Summary: The group, led by Tabris, journey across Ferelden. Friendship and romance party side; death and gore enemy side. A play in several acts. (abandoned)
1. Act 1, Scene 1

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age and the characters do not belong to me. Elekthe does.

**Contested Territory**

**Dramatis Personae**

Elekthe Tabris - Warrior, elven Grey Warden from the Denerim Alienage

Alistair Theirin - Templar, Grey Warden and bastard son of King Maric

Zevran Aranai - Assassin, ex-Antivan Crow

Morrigan - Shapeshifter, Witch of the Wilds

Oghren - Berserker, husband of Paragon Branka

Leliana - Bard, Orlesian rogue

Wynne - Spirit Healer, Circle of the Magi Enchanter

Act I, Scene 1

[_Near a waterfall in the Brecillian Forest_.]

[_The waterfall drops into a tiny pond before the stream narrows and flows east._

_The pond itself is sheltered from prying eyes by the steep cliffside and the thick foliage, turning the small forest clearing into a private paradise_.]

[_Zevran walks into the clearing_]

**Elekthe**: Zevran! Look at the marvel I stumbled on. The water is excellent. Well, the waterfall is cool but it must meet a hot spring somewhere because the pool is actually warm!

[_She turns to smile at him_]

**Elekthe**: Come, join me.

**Zevran** [_teasing_]: Oh, my dear Grey Warden, had I known you felt this way...

[_She shrugs his comment off with a laugh_]

**Elekthe**: I left myself open to that. Now, come.

**Zevran** [_taking his armor off slowly_]: If my lady commands it, I am more than happy to obey.

**Elekthe** [_sighing_]: Please don't make everything seem like an order... I'm quite sure you'll enjoy it. We don't often have a chance to enjoy nature's gifts and with your past and inclination I'm sure I'll be as intrusive as that rock over there.

[_Zevran finishes undressing and masks an involuntary frown with a less revealing look. When he turns around, he appears amused_]

**Zevran**: My past...? My inclination?

**Elekthe**: Ah...

[_She plays with some water droplets as she struggles to find the right words and at the same time not ogle the elf slowly making his way to her_]

**Elekthe**: You have told me little of your past in Antiva, but you did mention being raised by... ...women of the trade...

**Zevran** [_failing to see her point_]: Whores.

**Elekthe**: Yes. And I had assumed you to be quite familiar with female and male anatomy...

**Zevran** [_suddenly enlightened_]: ...to the point where it would not faze me to see a beautiful woman's wet, naked body as she bathes in a clear pool in the middle of a natural paradise?

**Elekthe** [_counters, though a bit unsure now_]: ...to the point where it would not faze you to see a woman you had shown no interest in... dressed in what the Maker gave us.

**Zevran** [_trying to make light of the situation_]: I did not know it meant so much to you, my dear lady, my interest.

**Elekthe** [_more serious_]: I do apologize though. I had assumed...

Well, the way you flirt with Leliana and Wynne, the witty repartees with Morrigan, I had assumed you saw me as simply the designated party leader and not...

**Zevran**: ...A woman. That is not true. While I do defer to you on decisions related to our quest to stop the blight, I can admire your grace in battle, the way your shirt clings to your breasts when you take off your chest piece...

**Elekthe**: It does what?

**Zevran** [_laughing_]: That I prefer not to tease you while you are leading our motley crew into danger is a logical decision.

**Elekthe** [_confused_]: I see...

**Zevran** [_smirking_]: I would rather tempt fate by flirting with even our more volatile companions than... for example, those who command power over their peers.

Say... enough power to enforce the decision of allowing an assassin to not only live, but join their rag-tag group.

**Elekthe** [_still confused_]: Ah... [_shaking her head and offering a smile_] At any rate, if my presence makes you uncomfortable, I can always leave. I've been lounging here for at least an hour.

[_She moves to get up from where she is sitting, half submerged in the warm water. With a predatory smile, Zevran stalks closer. He stops right in front of her then leans in to whisper in her ear_]

**Zevran**: It does make me uncomfortable, but I am guessing not in the way you intended the word...

Perhaps, before you rush to camp, you would be willing to try some more pleasurable activities than washing.

**Elekthe** [_flustered_]: I...

**Zevran** [_moving a step back_]: No? Too bad. Perhaps some other time.

[_Elekthe moves to jump out of the pool then changes her mind, motions for Zevran to make himself comfortable then, with a sigh, sits down a few feet away_]

**Elekthe**: I should have known better. Regardless of how immune I thought you to be to my dubious charms.... now, I think, I only look like a tease... Perhaps, [_biting her lip_] perhaps I should explain.

…Did I ever tell you how I joined the Grey Wardens?

[_Sensing this is going to be a serious topic, Zevran answers truthfully_]

**Zevran**: I know only what I could learn before I prepared the ambush. That you were raised in an Alienage and had to join the wardens lest you wind up hanged for an offense.

**Elekthe**: Well, that is the gist of it.

**Zevran**: I take it though, that there is more you wish to share...

**Elekthe**: I was born in the Denerim Alienage. My mother, while she lived, taught me to handle a blade, a shield... and, as she liked to say: keep my wits about me in a battle and hold my own in a battle of wits. When she was murdered, I tracked her killers down; I killed them and left their corpses in the street to be picked at by scavengers.

**Zevran** [_pleasantly_ _surprised_]: What an amazingly bloodthirsty punishment!

**Elekthe**: A couple of months ago, my cousin Soris and I were engaged to be married. My father told me that my fiancé knew nothing of my skill with weapons and, Maker forbid, my way of seeking retribution.

When I met my fiancé, Nelaros, it was the morning before the wedding... I found him an amiable person and when he promised he would do anything to keep me happy I vowed to myself to keep him safe in return. Even if it meant going behind his back.

That same day, I met Duncan. The Grey Warden was a friend to our elder and was there seeking help against the Blight.

...When we were about to say our vows, the Arl's demon spawn of a son came and, by force, took us women to the estate. There is no need for me to explain what they were planning... I'm sure you understand.

**Zevran** [_frowning_]: I do.

**Elekthe**: Because we would not make it easy for them, they killed one of the women. They were about to run me through as well when Soris arrived and tossed me a spare sword the Grey Warden had lent him. I hacked at them until Soris pulled me off, telling me I should save my strength for the Arl's son.

We went to find his sister, who had not been locked with us. As made our way through the keep, I could hear her screams...

Outside the bastard's rooms we were in for another surprise... A group of guards had ambushed my fiancé... [_her voice wavers_] I watched him die as he tried to shield me from their wrath. Shield **me**! Because he didn't know I could fight… Stupid, loyal man!

**Zevran**: He...

**Elekthe** **[**_She seems to remember she's not alone. Steeling herself, she continues_]: Yes, I killed the Arl's son. I killed my cousin's rapist and I killed his lackeys for good measure. Then I tore open his chest and stuffed her soiled dress inside... I chopped off his two companions' heads and left them outside his room.

[_Zevran listens, enthralled_]

Neither Soris nor Shianni railed at me for my actions. They understood that for those who were loyal to me, I would go to any lengths to see that justice was served. Their support, in turn, kept me grounded. We managed to get the women home but the guards found us. I admitted my crime and was about to get hauled off when Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription. ...I became a Grey Warden... But… It isn't as though I've changed.

I may not always need my companions' strength but I need their friendship... their loyalty. It is one constant in this changing life. ...I would rather take my pleasure with strangers than risk the loyalty of my companions. It is the one thing keeping me sane.

**Zevran** [_testing the waters and trying to cheer Elekthe up_]: So what you are trying to say - in a very enlightening though roundabout way - is that you will never consider bedding me – for a number of reasons – …not that you do not consider me astonishingly handsome.

**Elekthe** [_laughing_]: Indeed. I do consider you handsome... and [_on a more serious tone_] yes, I would not consider bedding you.

[_She moves out of the pool and begins to dry herself off with some cloth. Zevran crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes. Just as she is about to leave the clearing, he gives her something to think about_]

**Zevran** [_with a sly smile on his face_]: My dear, I said you will never, you said you would not... There is a world of difference between the two.

[End Scene 1. Act 1]


	2. Act 1, Scene 2

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age and the characters do not belong to me. Elekthe does.

Act 1, Scene 2

[_Back at camp_]

[_The camp is made of a few - roughly pinned down - tents scattered around a camp fire. All of them are old and patched and one of them is surrounded by half a dozen empty bottles of various shapes and sizes_.]

[_Oghren is snoring to one side of the fire while Leliana is telling Alistair some anecdote from her time in Orlais. Wynne is reading from a heavy tome and Morrigan is scribbling notes while comparing two parchments that look like they have seen better days_.]

[_Elekthe walks into camp carrying two dead rabbits_]

**Elekthe** [_holding the rabbits up proudly_]: A token of my affection, for my dear traveling companions.

**Oghren** [_poking an eye open_]: If it ain't filled with liquor, it ain't workin' for me…

**Alistair**: You said the same thing about the stag before you ate half of it. [_an innocently thoughtful look on his face_] …And the boar…

**Wynne**[_sporting the same innocent look_]: And the fawns…

**Alistair**: And the piglets last week…

**Wynne**: And the six chicken before that…

**Oghren**: I'd prepared ma stomach beforehand, ya see… Haven't had enough time to do so today.

**Alistair** [_sounding outraged_]: You've done nothing but drink this whole afternoon!

**Wynne**: And curse…

**Morrigan**: And belch…

**Alistair** [_amazed_]: And drink some more!

**Oghren**[_with a satisfied smile on his face, laughs_]: And a damn good thing too! Had to drown out the noise, damn forest's worse than a smithy with ten apprentices on proving day. [_He grunts, shifts to a side and promptly falls back to sleep. In a matter of minutes the camp is filled with his snores_]

**Alistair**[_grumbling good naturedly_]: …I'm having a hard time imagining you can hear anything above the racket you're making.

[_Leliana, seeing Elekthe is about to begin preparing the rabbits, hurries to her side_]

**Leliana**: You were gone for quite some time. Did you find a suitable bathing place?

**Elekthe**: I did.

**Leliana** [_smiling_]: Then you must not want to get blood on your clean clothes. Let me take care of the food. …Besides, [_in a_ _louder voice_] someone needs to prove to Alistair that tasty food doesn't necessarily have to look like a murky pond.

**Alistair**: Hey, I resent that!

**Morrigan**[_rolling her eyes_]: You would… Your idea or a good culinary experience is 'Ensure it's edible and pray they can hold their eyes closed throughout the meal'.

**Alistair**: I'm sure the swamp stew you grew up with was a wonder to behold.

[_The two continue bickering. Near the camp fire, Leliana takes the knife from Elekthe and makes shooing motions_.]

**Leliana**: So please, allow me.

**Elekthe**[_laughing_]: Well, I was planning on roasting it rather than boiling, but who am I to stop a woman on a mission.

[_Getting to her feet, Elekthe washes her hands then grabs Alistair and, with a wink to Morrigan, drags him into the forest._]

**Elekthe** [_slowing her pace once they are out of earshot from the camp, turns and gives Alistair a crooked smile_]: You should know better than to let Morrigan rile you.

**Alistair**: Oh, and miss getting insulted in new and innovative fashions? My ego would swell to the moon. …I'd be unbearable – Maker forbid – I'd be like her.

**Elekthe** [_laughing_]: You're too self-conscious for that to ever happen.

**Alistair**: Me? I can't be fazed… Should a thousand people proclaim their admiration for my battle prowess, I would merely smile and…

**Elekthe** [_eyes crinkling with a smile_]: …And should only one person proclaim their admiration?

**Alistair** [_trying to be unaffected and failing_]: Well, it would of course depend on the person. Ahem, are you saying **you** might admire my battle prowess?

**Elekthe**: I might. [_laughing_] Oh, hell Alistair, you know I wouldn't trust anyone incompetent with my back. Friendship aside, you're a competent warrior and your Templar training makes you an invaluable asset.

**Alistair** [_raising an eyebrow_]: …friendship aside?

**Elekthe** [_teasing_]: If you don't consider me a friend, feel free to relieve me of my preconceived notions.

**Alistair** [_smiling shyly_]: I… no. That is, I do. Thank you. Well, now that I've undoubtedly proven your point, I think we should be heading back to camp…

**Elekthe** [_remembering something, she rushes ahead_]: You're right! Someone needs to make sure Leliana doesn't use all our spices in an attempt to prepare a royal banquet.

[_When Elekthe is out of sight, Zevran jumps down from a branch. No words are exchanged for a while. __Finally, Alistair sighs and, turning away from the elf's questioning stare, walks back to camp._]

[End Act 1, Scene 2]


	3. Act 1, Scene 3

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age and the characters do not belong to me. Elekthe does.

Act 1, Scene 3

[_Somewhere in the Brecillian Forest. The time is close to sunset._]

[_A scouting party made of Elekthe, Oghren, Wynne and Zevran is walking along a narrow path_. _Elekthe is walking at the back of the group, scowling at the map she holds in her arms and occasionally glancing around with a confused frown_. _They all look tired and cranky._]

**Zevran**: Perhaps I should have a look at that map – a fresh perspective, so to speak.

**Elekthe** [_muttering_]: There's nothing wrong with my perspective but I swear if we ever find our way back to civilization that elf will be meeting the business end of my sword.

[_Oghren grunts, fishes a bottle from the recesses of his armor and takes a swig_.]

**Oghren**: Like we ever should've trusted that knife-eared thief. Bloody stupid of us to be following the scribbles of some half-blind, pigeon-brained sod who couldn't find his own…

**Wynne**: Oghren!

**Oghren**: ...to scratch.

**Wynne** [_striving for patience_]: We're all just as tired as you are. Getting mad at each-other for something we can't – at the moment – change, won't do us any good.

**Oghren** [_grumbles_]: It'll do my nerves good.

**Wynne** [_looking at Elekthe_]: Perhaps we should make camp and try to find our way back…

**Oghren**: Ain't no way I'm going back after all this without finding that blasted cave first!

**Wynne** [_continues smoothly_]: …try to find our way forward tomorrow.

**Elekthe** [_sighs_]: You're right, of course. We **have** been walking since noon. Maybe tomorrow we'll find out that we have simply been underestimating the distance… [_to herself_] …and crossed the ocean too, without noticing.

[_Folding the map, Elekthe looks around before pointing to a clump of trees_.]

**Elekthe**: We could try to set camp round those, we'll be sheltered from anyone following the path and we'll have only half the forest to worry about.

**Wynne**[_following her gaze_]: That is one half too many, but it seems our best choice, given the circumstances.

[_After ten minutes of shuffling packs, laying down weapons, finding comfortable moss or twigless dirt and, in one case, unearthing a half-empty cask of brown, sweet-smelling liquor, the group appears to have settled in_.]

[_The sun sets as Elekthe and Zevran take up the first watch. Howls can be heard in the distance._]

**Elekthe** [_without looking up from sharpening her sword_]: Closer?

**Zevran** [_listens for a while then shrugs_]: Seems so.

**Elekthe**[_with a nod towards their sleeping companions_]: I'm guessing we can let them sleep for an hour – two at most.

**Zevran**: That is true. We should see the beasts a while away.

[_Somewhere around midnight, the camp is attacked._]

[_Elekthe jumps to her feet to block the charge of a foul-looking were-beast as Zevran rolls and dodges a clawed hand. The commotion wakes up Oghren and Wynne who struggle for their weapons._]

**Oghren**: Humph. What's this? Don't these hell spawn learn not to mess with their betters? [_hefting his axe_] You picked the wrong night to mess with this dwarf! I might've made it clean …but now I'm already cranky.

[_With precise blows, Oghren methodically carves into a werewolf, cursing all the while._]

**Zevran** [_parrying a blow from one creature while slashing at another_]: My dear friend, weren't you just saying the other day… [_evade and slash_] …how you haven't had a good workout in ages…

[_He jumps to the side to avoid a charging beast then, bending his knees, he carries the motion to chop another werewolf's arm. In the meantime,_ _Elekthe_ _recoils from a blow to the side, shifts her stance and pushes back._]

**Elekthe**[_continuing Zevran's thought_]: Yes… [_finding an opening, she charges one of her attackers, knocks him down and drives her sword into his chest_] …you were pissed that it'd been a week already.

**Oghren**: I fought more often in Orzammar than on this so-called perilous adventure.

**Wynne**: And what, pray tell, do you call a dozen rabid werewolves? Mild exercise?

**Oghren**: No, that's what I call two dozen.

[_Turning to fend off another attack, Elekthe notices a skulking beast which is about to jump Oghren from behind._]

**Elekthe**: Oghren, duck!

[_Rushing forward, she swings her shield above the dwarf and plants it in the beast's neck. The blood sprays on her and Wynne, breaking the healer's concentration while mending a wide gash in Zevran's shoulder._]

**Wynne **[_peeved_]: Filthy blood sack.

**Elekthe**: Don't look now but your second dozen is on its way… Take the left, I'll hold the middle. Keep them from noticing Wynne.

[_Minutes tick by. Slowly the beasts stop coming but, by now, Oghren is showing signs of exhaustion. Elekthe and Zevran's movements have become sluggish and Wynne, continuously chanting her healing magic, is barely standing._]

[_Finally, all energy expended, Wynne passes out from fatigue. Oghren is slashing at an enraged beast while Elekthe and Zevran are chasing two werewolves who have been giving them trouble with their hit-and-run technique._]

[_After finishing off his attacker, Oghren looks around, noticing for the first time that the other two fighters are missing._]

**Oghren**: Maker's bollocks. Humph.

_[__Swiping at the blood on his face, he goes by Wynne's side, lifts her from where she had fallen and lays her against a tree trunk some distance from the battle. Even unconscious, a troubled look mars her features._]

**Oghren**: Nice and easy, old gal. [_patting her arm_] You kept 'em all safe. [_pausing to consider_] Well, as safe as the Warden can be, with that wily assassin to watch her back.

[End Act 1, Scene 3]


	4. Act 2, Scene 1

**Disclaimer**: Dragon Age and the characters do not belong to me. Elekthe does.

Act 2, Scene 1

[_Deep in the Brecillian Forest. A soft mist is gathering as night fades into dawn._]

[_Elekthe is leaning against a tree, armorless. One of her arms is lying limp by her side. Zevran is sitting a few paces away, cleaning his daggers._]

[_After sitting in silence for a while, Elekthe appears to have remembered something._]

**Elekthe** [_looking down at her chest with a self-deprecating smile_]: It does tend to cling, doesn't it. [_picking at the troublesome shirt_] I wonder if this can actually be solved in some manner which doesn't involve Oghren complaining about the surface breeding warriors who think cuirasses should only weigh half a cartload.

**Zevran** [_eyes crinkling with laughter_]: You **could** wear light armor, my dear.

**Elekthe**: ...which would naturally imply forgoing my shield as well...

[_Zevran appears to be giving some serious thought to the matter._]

**Zevran**: ...in favor of a second blade. And then, whenever our little group is ambushed –

**Elekthe** [_mock menacing_]: I'd charge daringly into the fray -

**Zevran**: Bloodlust in your eyes...

**Elekthe**: Curses, war-cries and all, [_shakes a fist at the sky_] swinging my swords...

**Zevran**: ...and fervently praying to the gods of evasion.

**Elekthe**: Do rogues do that often?

**Zevran** [_winking_]: Only those with a death-wish.

[_They share a laugh before settling down once more. Elekthe is slowly shaking her head from side to side._]

**Zevran**: Is something the matter?

**Elekthe **[_groans_]: It could be that I parried one blow too many from those monstrous fists or that my shoulders have simply reached their limit and decided to be rid of me through death by torture.

[_Zevran moves closer and kneels by Elekthe's side. Pressing her shoulder gently, he tries to asses the damage._]

**Zevran**: Perhaps I may be of some help. I've been told that my hands work miracles…

**Elekthe** [_faking alarm_]: I wouldn't exactly call a clean kill an adequate solution to my problem.

**Zevran **[_gently pushes her forward then moves to sit behind her, settling her body in his lap_]: Ah, my dear Grey Warden, I was speaking of the less obvious arts I have learnt growing up among prostitutes.

[_He gathers her hair and moves it to one side then, smoothing his palms over her skin begins kneading her shoulders. The forest is silent except for the occasional sigh or soft groan_.]

**Zevran**: I have a question, if you will indulge me.

**Elekthe**: What's on your mind?

**Zevran**: You have asked me about my time in Antiva – my childhood and my adventures -, but have told me little except for the unfortunate series of events which led to you becoming a Grey Warden…

[_He pauses, encouraging her to lean forward as he rubs downwards along her spine. Now and again, his hands travel upwards to stroke her neck. After a while, she seems to unconsciously lean into his caresses._]

**Zevran**: However, I remember you mentioning that you have learnt your skills from your mother.

**Elekthe**: I did.

**Zevran** [_slowly_]: I... see.

**Elekthe** [_smiling_]: Ah. I take it you're curious how a small elven girl takes to massive swords and cumbersome shields when all the other little girls are home dreaming about the prince charming who will come to steal them away from under the human yoke.

**Zevran**: Something like that. If I have broached a delicate topic, my dear, please feel free not to answer.

**Elekthe** [_arching against his hands when he massages a particularly sore muscle_]: ...looking back, I think I wanted to learn how to fight because I felt as if the world owed me something. This is perhaps something all city elves feel – there's no way of knowing – but I think my mother offered to teach me so it would help keep me out of trouble – as strange as that sounds.

Acquiring some skill with the sword took some time and, while correcting my stance or leading me through the motions, my mother would often speak to me of other things: bidding one's time, learning to reason with the other person [_with a mischievous grin_] – if only to lure them into a false sense of security.

I don't think that, young as I was, everything she said stuck. In fact, all I remember are bits and pieces... But when one is at home, practicing how to parry and block, one isn't in the street, cutting purses and offending the wrong person.

**Zevran **[_nods_]: She was a clever woman then, your mother. Cunning.

**Elekthe **[_sighing_]: And yet she couldn't talk her way out or fight her way out when it mattered most. I'm not sure what to learn from that.

**Zevran **[_his thumb rubbing gently behind her ears_]: Well, one can learn quite a few things depending on one's viewpoint. One could learn that a woman should know when to give in **or** – more probable in our case – that she should have some extra blades to back up her retreat.

Better yet, that she should allow her companions – at times – to quietly dispose of her problems without her worrying about the outcome.

**Elekthe** [_ruefully_]: Unsettling... to find such comfort in the offer of an assassin.

**Zevran**: Have you so soon forgotten that my blades are yours to direct, my dear Grey Warden? [_leaning forward to nuzzle against her neck_] Now, if you would only allow me, I believe there are several other offers I could make in which you would find... comfort.

**Elekthe **[_softly accusing_]: Taking advantage of my weakened state, Zevran?

**Zevran**: I will not force you into anything, my dear. ...That is why I am waiting for your consent. [_smoothing his touch into a caress_] Persuasion on the other hand...

**Elekthe**: Persuasion... coercion... so easily the lines may blur.

**Zevran **[_on a serious tone_]: I do not 'rape and pillage'. Ravishing is much more pleasant... and rewarding. And for the other person it is a gift – a final gift, if they are to be murdered, but a gift nonetheless.

[_playfully_] And as far as taking advantage is concerned, among the Crows we are taught that weakness, of any sort, is something to be exploited. Without exception.

If you had me at your mercy, handsome as you think me, wouldn't you take advantage?

**Elekthe **[_her smile hidden by the bowed head_]: ..._when_ I had you at my mercy... did I? Should I have done as my training bade me and vengefully slit your throat while you were unconscious?

**Zevran** [_detachedly_]: It would have been a reasonable course of action.

**Elekthe **[_challenging_]: So says Zevran or the Antivan Crow?

**Zevran**: The two are one, my dear.

**Elekthe **[_with a soft sigh_]: ...As I am both an elven woman and a Grey Warden.

What if, as a woman, I am foolishly influenced by the man with whom I take my pleasures? What if I attempt to gain their approval by taking the course of action I believe they would take, were they in my position? As a Grey Warden, my judgment would then be impaired.

I cannot afford that.

**Zevran** [_emphatically_]: You are not the sort who would make those kind of mistakes.

**Elekthe **[_shrugs, then leans back against his chest_]: I let my instinct guide me when I accepted Morrigan – despite her views and her apostate status, when I spared your life – even though you had orchestrated a death trap for us.

**Zevran**: And I count myself luckier for it.

**Elekthe **[_tries to get her point across_]: With every choice I make instinctively, I rely on the loyalty of my companions to support me in my decision.

**Zevran**: It is only natural to expect loyalty when you offer it in so great amount.

**Elekthe**: But should I risk their loyalty on the off-chance that my decisions will not be affected by whomever it is I bed?

[_The two stay silent for a while. Zevran appears to be thinking hard about something. Finally, he seems to have reached some sort of conclusion as he touches Elekthe's arm to get her attention._]

**Zevran**: We are speaking in such general terms. Is this perhaps, not because you are conflicted between duty and desire... but because, in truth, you are conflicted between duty, one desire and.... another desire?

**Elekthe** [_looking into the forest_]: Perhaps...

[_Behind her, Zevran looks weary for a moment, before the mask falls back into place._]

[_After a while, Elekthe closes her eyes and drifts to sleep while his hands gently wander over her body, easing pained muscles but never lingering in one place too long._]

[End Act 2, Scene 1]


End file.
